


The Crisis

by llyn



Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llyn/pseuds/llyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Taichi realizes Yamato is gay, his plan to make the singer less appealing backfires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Digimon is not my property, and this work is not for profit.

Something clicked into place in Taichi's mind as he watched Yamato pout prettily in front of the crowd. Same gorgeous Yama, same platinum hair, same velvet voice, same skinny cool. Just his best friend from childhood, sweating sensually as ever under blinding stage lights.

Then Taichi blinked. And instantly, irreversibly, no doubt in the suddenly very big, very scary world, Taichi knew—no question—that Yamato was gay.

"Oh no," Taichi knew he spoke the words out loud, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the screaming girls. Yamato flicked his fringe from his eyes, his hand running up and down the mic stand with his wrist cocked just so in a way that made Taichi jolt forward in a panic. _Gay! Gay! Gay!_ The bells tolled in Taichi's head as he toppled half the VIP section in his scramble toward backstage.

When security refused him, Taichi was forced to endure another harrowing twenty minutes of the Teenage Wolves, hoping from foot to foot each time Yamato flashed his teeth, once letting out a whimper when the idiot licked his fingertip and slid it down his bare chest to the delight of the crowd. _What are you doing?_ Taichi wanted to shout, _What the_ fuck _do you think you're doing?_

Taichi shouted just that the second he caught the blond's arm after the show, having leapt a barricade and outran the guards easily. Yamato waved them off as they rounded the corner after Taichi, panting and red-faced. The wild-eyed, shouting brunette wasn't even out of breath.

Yamato blinked at his outburst, along with the other members of the band, who Taichi treated to a suspicious glare before tugging Yamato away a safe distance. He looked around conspiratorially before meeting the too wide, too blue eyes watching him with evident worry.

"We've got to get you out of here," Taichi said, trying to remain calm as he whispered, "You're in danger."

Yamato stepped closer to Taichi instinctively, "In danger? What's wrong?" he asked in a low whisper to match his friend's.

Taichi took him by his bare shoulders to emphasize his point, "Get your stuff. I'll tell you when we're at your place," he gave the blond a little shake, "Now."

Obediently, Yamato nodded and walked back to his bandmates, explaining himself with a careless laugh, looking disinterested, looking cool, as if the world wasn't actively crumbling around him. Taichi watched with admiration. The other Wolves, with a last curious look at Taichi, took over packing up Yamato's equipment while the blond pulled a t-shirt over his head. _Finally_ , Taichi sighed with relief. Safely escorting a sweaty, shirtless Yama home would've required a weapon.

Yamato returned to Taichi with just his school bag slung over his shoulder, blue eyes loyal and mouth shut. God, it had taken so long to get to this point—to shut that mouth, to gain the trust in those eyes. He was still a feisty little shit, but now he listened to Taichi, and Yama didn't listen to _anyone_.

He'd always been a fey thing, but that was what drove girls crazy. Taichi understood that. He'd had a girlfriend every second of high school. Taichi didn't mind. No girl could come between them, Yama always made that clear. Even the last one. What had her name been? Oh, right. Sora. Taichi had let Yamato seduce away his childhood sweetheart without word one. Mostly because Yamato spent the majority of his relationship with Sora with Taichi, rolling his eyes every time his phone chirped. He really was a brat to his girlfriends.

But a boyfriend? A man? A guy might object to Taichi's habit of laying his head in the blond's lap when they talked, to their sleepovers, to Taichi's presence at the Ishidas' apartment for most meals of the day. Taichi's hands formed into fists, realizing this might jeopardize his daily head massages.

"C'mon," Taichi took Yamato's elbow again and they made their escape out the back door of the venue. Taichi fought the urge to break out in a run, settling for dragging Yamato as quickly as possible, but the blond allowed it, keeping his thoughts to himself until they were safely at Yamato's. His dad wasn't home, as expected, but Taichi wasn't satisfied until they were in Yamato's room with the door locked.

"So?" Yamato asked, taking a seat on his bed.

Taichi stood there awkwardly, unsure how he should broach the subject. When in doubt, spit it out, he decided, "You're gay, Yamato."

Yamato drew in a sharp breath, growing pale. Well, pal _er_. A full minute passed before he managed a shaky exhalation that sounded like Taichi's name.

"Did you know?" Taichi asked, brow furrowed. He hated to be the one to break such news.

"Yes," Yamato said slowly, "But how did you—"

"It's obvious!" Taichi almost tipped over with anxious energy. How could he not know? And if Taichi knew, God, everyone would realize it soon. There wasn't time to waste.

"Taichi," Yamato said, eyes fearful and looking a little shiny before he dropped them to his hands, "I was going to tell you. I only just sorted it all out. I was just….I'm just…" Yamato looked up into Taichi's eyes searchingly for a moment, but then his gaze fell to his hands again, voice quiet, "Scared," he finished, frowning.

"Me too," Taichi said, collapsing beside him, "This is bad."

"You think it's bad," Yamato repeated in a small voice, eyes on the carpet, "Now nothing's gonna be the same between us."

Taichi stopped pulling at his hair to look at his friend, "God, I'm so happy you understand!"

"Understand?"

"The danger you're in!"

"D-danger?" Yamato pawed at his eyes.

"Yeah! Danger! There's gonna be a million guys coming after you, Yama, the second this gets out!"

"A million—that's what the danger was?"

"Is!" Taichi insisted. He'd been wrong. Yama didn't get it at all, "Don't you see? Unless we do something about it, you're gonna get seduced!" Taichi said, and when Yamato didn't answer—mouth working soundlessly, he emphasized, "By a _man_."

When Yamato did nothing, didn't shriek in fear or hide under the covers—just sat there staring at Taichi with his eyebrows raised—Taichi knew he was on his own. With an exasperated sigh of " _Here_ ," he leaned forward to catch Yama's hair with both hands, sweeping it back from his face in a makeshift ponytail. He'd hoped that without his long hair Yama wouldn't be so attractive, but with it pulled back his high cheekbones stuck out indecently and his smooth, pale skin looked downright lickable.

"Shit!" Taichi cursed, letting Yamato's hair go, defeated, "You're just too hot."

Yamato regarded Taichi with wide eyes. Taichi clicked his tongue, thinking.

"Maybe if we get you in baggier clothes, you know? You don't exactly dress like a monk." In fact, Taichi thought, putting two and two together, Yamato's clothes were _intentionally_ provocative: so tight and shiny with zippers and laces as if Yamato were bound and tied up like a present waiting to be opened. It was _a gay thing_ , meant for other boys to notice. Which meant it wasn't just Taichi who found himself—very unintentionally, because he wasn't gay but he _was_ a boy—watching the blond move. "Maybe…" Taichi rose and tugged his hoodie off, holding it for a bewildered Yamato to slip into, which he did after Taichi shook it impatiently at him.

He took a step back, examining the effect. He'd hoped to make him frumpy. But the bright blue hoodie only made Yamato's sapphire eyes more stunning. Cursing, he yanked the hood up. The jacket was a size too big—Taichi being broader of shoulder than his slight friend but the effect of the oversized hood drooping over the blond was, "Fucking adorable. We're screwed."

Taichi sat, heavily. He sighed, heavily. After a long moment of silence Yamato brushed the hood off his head, patting his hair protectively, then brought the too-long sleeves to his face. He inhaled the scent deeply, eyes dropping closed in contentment.

"I didn't know you thought I was hot," he said, with a sidelong glance Taichi's way.

Taichi slapped his hand against the mattress, "Focus, Ishida! This is a crisis!" He sprung from the bed and stalked across the room to peer out from behind the window blinds at the dark street below.

Yamato fought back the smile on his face, hugging himself with Taichi's jacket and burying his nose in the fabric again.

"First of all, we better hide out here tonight, to be safe," Taichi muttered, thinking out loud as he scanned the street for Yama-snatchers, "I might not have been the only one to figure it out tonight, and I'm not going to let some roving pack of freaks violate my best friend." He narrowed his eyes at a dog-walker lingering a bit too long at the corner.

"Just imagine what they'll want to do to you," he said, picturing Yamato naked, menaced by some shadow figure who lapped at his nipples while mewling complaints dropped like honey from Yamato's soft lips. Suddenly light-headed, Taichi closed his eyes with a whimper and pitched forward to grasp at the blinds. He hadn't had much to eat today apart from eggs and bacon and toast and some pizza and a soda for lunch and a bag of popcorn and a candy bar and some pretzels. He was suffering from low blood sugar. Obviously.

"What are you going to do to stop them, Taichi?" Yamato's smooth voice drew Taichi away from the window. He sat down beside his friend, proud to see him putting on a brave face. Smirking, even! Classic Yama shit-kicker attitude. They might make it out of this after all.

"I'll think of something," Taichi assured him, putting on a winning—if lopsided—smile, "Until then, don't be scared," his smile faded as he brushed away a blond strand that had fallen across Yamato's face, his eyes falling to rest on his friend's full lips, "I'll protect you," he said, fiercely, a moment before Yamato surged forward to kiss him.

* * *

Taichi pushed Yamato away gently, not before briefly kissing the blond back and possibly moaning a tiny little moan, but Taichi hadn't kissed a lot of people, didn't make a habit of it, so it was only natural to, well, react. And Taichi's body had most certainly reacted. He closed his eyes half to block out the sight of Yama's flushed face and nervous glance, half to fight off a second wave of dizziness. He really should eat something, he reasoned. Hunger was effecting his judgment.

Of course, Taichi could admit—was _man_ enough to admit—that this feeling he had that the world was tipping sideways and trying to shake him off could possibly be more of a reaction to Yamato's kiss than because he had eaten only two slices of pizza instead of his usual five. In which case, Yama would probably have the same effect on any variety of guys currently— _at this very moment_ —plotting to take the blond away from Taichi, forever. Actually, kissing Taichi first, before the others found out, was a genius move on Yama's part, Taichi realized, but Yama, for whatever reason, was a little slow today and probably needed Taichi to explain to him why.

Finding his voice after only three tries, he nodded sagely, "You're right, Yama."

"Taichi?" The blond cocked his head, confused, hand still twisted in the fabric of Taichi's shirt.

"Let's face it. Looking the way you do, you're not going to attract nice guys—"

"Taichi—"

"I mean, yeah, they'll want you, too, but you're too intimidating. Not that it's your fault. It's just—nice guys don't really take risks, you know? And you're _so_ blond. It's gonna be nothing but—"

"Taichi—"

"Sleezebags. Rich assholes. White slavers."

" _Taichi_ —"

"You gotta keep your wits about you. You gotta learn not to let your guard— _mmph._ "

Yamato kissed him again, this time with his hand rubbing circles over the hard-on straining Taichi's jeans that Taichi could've explained away easily if Yamato had given him even the space of a breath to talk.

Taichi's hands naturally wrapped around his skinny frame and pulled him so close he was nearly in Taichi's lap. When Yamato finally did break off the kiss it was to loosen Taichi's jeans with two deft motions (Button! Zipper!), and take Taichi's very hard dick—which, again, he could've explained—deep into his mouth.

This was a big moment for Taichi. Had he got a blowjob before? Um, yeah, of course! But also, technically, no. And definitely not by a boy with pretty yellow hair and perfect, perfect lips. Yet all Taichi could do to commemorate the event was to pull Yamato's hair back from his face—strictly out of courtesy! Certainly _not_ to get a better view of the hypnotizing, sliding action of his very own dick slipping in and out of the hot, wet mouth of his best friend.

"Ya-ma," Taichi choked out, toes curling, hips accidentally pushing up into the blond's suction, then accidentally doing it again. Then gripping Yamato's hair tightly and doing it a lot.

"Mm," Yama answered, pulling away with a pop of his lips to rest his forehead against Taichi's, hand pumping the slick shaft as he supported the weight of Taichi's feverish head. The brunette groaned with pleasure. Yamato smiled at the sound, eyes closed, and teased, "Fucking my mouth, Taichi?"

At this, Taichi came without warning. Yamato ducked his head down to lick away the come, hand getting covered in the process. By the time Taichi could remember his name and the necessity of oxygen, Yamato had grabbed a crumbled t-shirt off the floor and was cleaning off his fingers and chin.

Taichi tilted his head and watched Yamato with an expression nothing short of fondness. He'd remembered how to breathe, sure, but was still a bit pre-verbal, his inner monologue just a happy, carefree sound not unlike a xylophone playing a jaunty tune. His smile faded when Yama tossed the t-shirt to the ground and leaned back, mirroring Taichi's position, with a similarly satisfied smile in place.

"No, no, no," Taichi sat up with a huff, "Yama, you _bimbo_ , you can't just blow somebody and expect nothing back. You have to get yours!" Taichi pinched the bridge of his nose. This was hopeless, "Otherwise they'll take advantage of you and your perfect…uh," Taichi trailed off, gaze falling to Yamato's red, swollen lips just as his tongue emerged to lick away a bit of come he'd missed before.

Taichi felt dizzy again, but pulled himself together and soldiered on quite admirably. This was a crisis, he reminded himself. Taichi was tops in a crisis. He was the dude to call.

"I won't have my best friend blowing guys all over town for nothing," he folded his arms and scowled into the middle distance, jaw clenched, until Yamato's hand sliding onto his leg stole his attention away.

"I like it," Yamato said, then pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, tasting.

Taichi's heart hitched, then seemed to stop completely. "God, they're going to eat you alive," he moaned.

"Did _you_ like it?" Yamato all but purred against Taichi's ear, waking up his cock too quickly from its nap.

Taichi squirmed away from Yamato's lips, "We've gotta talk about your voice, too. You can't just use that casually—you'll end up kidnapped," Taichi buried his face in his hands, "We have so much to go over, Yama. You're too sexy." Taichi pulled at his hair, nearly crying. Yamato would get swept away instantly. Any day now. Any minute. And when it inevitably happened, Taichi would be lucky to ever see him again. He'd probably end up the token blond in some Arabian prince's all-male harem at the top of a skyscraper in Dubai.

"This is a disaster," Taichi sniffled.

Slender fingers pried each of Taichi's hands from his hair in turn, then returned to tilt Taichi's trembling chin up, "I'm sorry, Taichi."

"There's that voice again! Don't use that!"

"What voice, Taichi?" Yamato cooed, taking Taichi's hands and guiding them to his hipbones. This cheered Taichi up a little bit. Distracted him, at least. While Yamato leaned back on his elbows, watching, he ran his fingers across the taut skin, hard bone beneath, sliding his palms over these two delicious, no, not delicious, just _interesting_ points on Yamato's body. Not that he hadn't felt them before, groping Yamato during particularly physical fights, but it had always been by accident and there was no way to prove that it wasn't.

"These are nice," he murmured, absently.

"Thanks," Yamato drew the vowel out to pornographically suggestive lengths.

"There it is again! You can't talk like that! Say something normal."

Yamato sat up and opened his mouth to argue, but ultimately sighed and said, flatly, "Something normal."

It was still too provocative for Taichi's tastes, but he supposed it would do for now.

"Now say something sexy."

Yamato let his head fall to the side, his fringe covering one eye. He trailed a finger up Taichi's tanned bicep, gently pushing up the fabric of his shirt sleeve as he traced the muscle, "I love the taste of your come, Taichi," he purred, voice drawing Taichi closer to his sweet lips with each sugary syllable. He paused, dropping his blue eyes. Taichi held his breath, hoping for more, which Yamato delivered with a wicked smile on his lips, "I think your dick is perfect."

Taichi's lips had gone inexplicably dry, so he licked them and said, "Hear the difference?" in a hoarse, strangled voice before crashing his mouth against Yamato's, desperately. Taichi's finger traced Yamato's angular jaw, tilting his face this way and that as they kissed, tongues finding each other. Taichi's hand began to drift lower, down the long neck and delicate collarbones, down the soft t-shirt to squeeze those very interesting hipbones, then, with surprisingly little hesitation, beneath Yama's pants to stroke his erection.

The blond moaned into Taichi's mouth, having no other choice as Taichi gripped the back of his neck, holding him tightly in place.

Taichi whispered, "Beautiful," against Yamato's lips in response, having no other choice, because it was true.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Taichi?" Yamato moaned? Groaned? Taichi'd never heard his name in such a dirty whisper before, " _God_ , did you hit your head? You have to tell me if you did."

Taichi didn't dignify that with a response. As if he hadn't hit his head enough times in his life to know not to kiss anybody afterwards, even if they looked like a dancing ice cream cone, or a sharply dressed hot dog. Besides, he was too busy nibbling a line up Yamato's jaw to answer.

The blond pulled away just as Taichi's teeth grazed his earlobe to look into his eyes with real concern, "Do you know what day it is?"

"Do I usually?" Taichi asked.

That shut him up. Taichi got back to work, finding the spots on Yamato's neck that made the blond clutch at him helplessly, and go _Taichi Taichi_. His hair smelled like some delicious tropical drink, the kind that hides the bite of alcohol under sweetness. Yamato was the opposite. All bite on the outside. Pretty, though. The point was, he was nothing like what his hair smelled like. He was more like what he tasted like: salt and spice.

"Suck my dick?"

Taichi stopped nibbling long enough to follow Yamato's gaze down to where his hand had been busy this whole time. His own hand! With mind of its own! Stroking and teasing and generally amusing itself with a dick longer and thinner than it was used too. Taichi knitted his eyebrows at it. Kind of unsettling, the lack of loyalty it showed, having only known Taichi's dick its whole life.

"Taichi?"

He looked back up into Yamato's bright blue eyes, now staring fearfully back at him as if shocked by his own question. The blond flushed, "I mean, only if you want to."

What Taichi wanted to do was to scold him for even asking. Demand it! Say it like there's no choice! What a stupid thing to ask—as if anyone alive would deny him anything. Who wouldn't want a taste? Such was Taichi's outrage he hardly noticed how forcefully he'd yanked down Yamato's dark jeans, nor did he hear Yamato's gasp as Taichi took his gorgeous dick into his mouth. Yamato tried to watch, but was forced onto his back with a shove, then he tried to clamor up onto his elbows, only to be shoved down again. Giving up, he could only moan exquisitely at the ceiling.

Taichi, heart racing, flying blind, did his best to mimic Yamato's earlier treatment of him: sure and steady. But the noises the blond made—he'd have to talk to Yama about that, too—spurred him to new heights of creativity. He sucked very slowly, he licked very softly, he ran his curious fingers through the curling, dark blond hair. He sucked hard, he licked fast at the tip, he touched balls. He wasn't surprised to find himself naturally talented at this kind of thing, if Yamato's broken speech and sobs of pleasure were anything to go by. It seemed to combine two of his greatest talents: putting things in his mouth and getting Yama to yell at him.

"Taichi! _Fuck_ ," Yamato's hands twisted in Taichi's hair so tight it hurt. Every swipe of Taichi's tongue got a disproportionate response—not unlike trying to talk to the guy back in the day when saying hi led to snarling fist fights. But instead of sneers and insults it was an arched back and slender legs falling open in offering. Just from a _lick_. And the _noises_. It was _decadent_. He came so deeply and so suddenly in Taichi's throat that the brunette swallowed without tasting, his head buzzing and lips tingling pleasantly. He fell onto the bed beside his undone friend afterwards, breathing hard, proud of himself for returning the favor. It was only fair.

* * *

"What's going on?" Yamato asked, sounding wary, anywhere from a minute to an hour later as far as Taichi knew, "Not that I'm not…you know," Taichi didn't, "But what is this? Are we…?"

Taichi sighed, opening his big, dark eyes to look at the tousled blond staring at him. He'd come to a grave decision, and blathering Yamato, unable finish his own sentences, clearly needed the sober direction of a strong leader, "Honestly, I didn't know at first how to get you out of this terrible mess, but now I think I have a plan," he answered, "You might not like it, though."

Yamato blinked at him.

"It's gotta be me," Taichi explained, "If it's anyone else they'll just want you for face and your body and your hair and your voice and the things you say and the way you act," Taichi didn't know who he was kidding, Yamato would probably be picked up by someone perfect. Who wouldn't want to spoil him rotten? Yamato's head was big enough, though, so Taichi did his best not to let on, "I'll treat you right, Yama. If it's me, well, at least it'll be someone who loves you," he let out a great sigh, "I dunno. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned," he added, mournfully, tangling his fingers with the blond's.

Yamato sat up, pulling Taichi with him by the hand, and took the brunette's face between his palms, "Taichi," voice a little choked, "Are you asking to take my…Are you sure you're—" Yamato bit his lip, tipping forward to rub his nose against Taichi's, long eyelashes tickling his friend's cheeks. "Um," Yamato tried again, face still close, "Are you sure?"

Taichi didn't know what Yamato was getting at. Was he sure? Had he ever not been sure? Of anything? "Are _you_ sure?" he countered, brushing Yamato's hair from his eyes.

"Yeah," Yamato said with a nervous laugh, "I mean, I've never done it that way, yet, but I've done a lot of—" cough, "research. Online. And I have this," Yamato searched beneath the bed to grab a shoebox. He reached in, bringing out a slim dildo that Taichi snatched from his hand right away, ignoring Yamato's yelp of "Wait!"

"Hold on, I've never seen one of these," Taichi squinted at the dildo, holding it up to the light, "Do you really—"

"You're killing me," Yamato groaned, hiding his face in the sleeves of Taichi's hoodie.

But Taichi had grown inexplicably hard imagining Yama alone, _researching_. He held the toy out for Yamato to take, eyes feral, "Use it."

Yamato peeked out from between his fingers, face painfully red. He reached out a hand to take the dildo back.

"Show me," Taichi insisted. Yamato nodded, weakly. He shrugged out of the hoodie, offering it to Taichi. Taichi grabbed his wrist rather than the hoodie and pulled Yamato close, stripping the shirt off him to run his hands over his fine skin, feverish to the touch but pale as moonlight. Taichi only managed to lick one nipple before Yamato wriggled out of reach, standing up to shed his jeans. Then he was naked, and Taichi couldn't look away. He'd seen Yama countless of times. Seen him and seen him. They weren't body shy. An interminable summer of camping in the wilderness will do that to friends. But now, Taichi thought he'd never seen anything better than the blushing, gulping, mortified Yamato before him.

"You're perfect," Taichi reminded him. Leave it to Yamato to forget such a thing.

The blond seemed to remember that yes, he really was. He let out a breath, allowing himself to be tugged back onto the bed. Taichi found his lips, Yamato's fingers wound into Taichi's hair, and soon they were too busy seeing how slowly they could mingle their tongues to remember to be scared.

"Ready?" Taichi asked, drawing away to find Yamato's lips gleaming wet, red, and open. He drew his thumb over the bottom lip experimentally, pulling it down, then realized his mistake. If he lost it before they even started then he'd lose Yama, too. Then it was just a matter of time before someone lured him into the back of a van with the promise of free sample sizes of all his favorite hair products.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Yamato's eyes burned into him as he nodded, "Lube," he whispered, voice unrecognizably husky. "In the box," he instructed, after rubbing noses with Taichi again. Taichi found it, pressing it into Yamato's hand. He watched, eyes enormous and breath short, as Yamato spread lube over the dildo, and, in the process, his fingers. He held the toy in one hand, hitching up uncomfortably on one hip to insert a finger in preparation. His dick had grown hard again and he bit his lip in concentration. It was all very nice to look at. But Taichi needed to _see._

"Wait," he said, guiding Yamato onto his hands and knees, or, to be fair, yanking on him stubbornly until Yamato got the picture and finally fucking _moved_. Taichi's hands poured sweat, but he finally got him into the perfect position, with his legs spread facing the opposite way, "Like that," Taichi whispered, squeezing a hand on Yamato's hip before leaning back into the pillows at the head of the bed. Yamato turned to look at him apprehensively from the foot, all of him displayed for Taichi to see.

"Just do what I say," Taichi said in answer to Yama's hesitation, his voice a rasp—halfway between an order and a plea. Blue eyes blinked at him then disappeared. A moment later Taichi sucked in a breath at the sight of Yama's lube-slicked finger circling gingerly around his asshole before disappearing inside. Taichi's mouth hung open as Yama set a rhythm—finger sliding in and out slowly, then he added a second finger with a pretty moan that woke Taichi from his trance. He kicked off his own pants and boxers in a rush and tore off his shirt. Yamato, too far gone, didn't even seem to notice as Taichi set a rhythm to match the blond's, stroking his own dick while looking on until he couldn't wait any longer, "Use it," he said.

The fingers left the opening slick and ready while Yamato searched briefly amongst the covers, then with an incredible sound that, combined with the scene in front of him, made Taichi's heart stop with fear that he would come right then and there, Yamato pushed the toy in, fucking himself on the hard plastic.

"Fuck," Yamato whimpered, ass high in the air, hot cheek pressed against the sheets.

"Fuck," Taichi whispered. It was so much worse than he could've ever imagined. He knew he'd never make it at this rate. His dick was swollen in his hand, balls tight and threatening.

Yamato gasped raggedly with each push until Taichi felt he had to do something to help. He leaned forward to take one of Yamato's ass cheeks in his hand, kneading it roughly until the skin turned white beneath the pressure of his fingertips. He grabbed both cheeks and pressed them together, trapping the toy tight between them and winning one of those earth-shattering noises Yamato could make for his effort. He pulled back a hand and spanked him—just a couple times—nothing Yamato didn't have coming. Really, if anyone could've benefitted from regular, violent spankings, Taichi thought, as a couple times turned into a dozen and his hand started to sting, it was Yamato.

It took a choked whimper of "Taichi _, please"_ from Yamato to remind him why he was there. Dick threatening to explode, Yamato threatening to cry, Taichi tossed the dildo away, positioning himself in its place. He was so much bigger than the dildo, it looked impossible, but Taichi pushed in anyway, eyes rolling back with a blinding burst of pleasure. Yamato was so tight around him it was almost painful, but he managed not to blow it by frantically singing the national anthem in his head. When he finally moved he went slow—too slow—scared to hurt Yamato.

That was, until Yamato moaned his name in a hot, desperate voice that, Taichi figured, was only okay to use if it was for Taichi. Yamato pushed back against his thrust, wanting more. So Taichi gave it to him, holding Yamato's hips hard enough to bruise and fucking him harder and harder until Yamato's arms gave out under the pressure of his thrusts.

_Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down_ , Taichi thought, afraid that if he saw it he'd come in an instant. Taichi leaned over to kiss his lovely back, tracing his spine. He nuzzled his burning cheek against the cool, white nape of Yamato's neck. Yamato panted and swore as his vocabulary shrunk until he could only say "yes" and "fuck" and "harder" and "Taichi." Then it shrunk further. "Harder!" Blond hair fell forward in a curtain to hide Yamato's face as Taichi fucked him into the mattress then pulled him up to fuck him back down again. "Harder!" He snaked a hand beneath them to stroke Yama's dick as the blond still pushed back against Taichi's thrusts. "Harder!" Taichi fucked him with a hand wrapped in his hair, pulling his head back roughly. "Harder!" Fucked him until the bed had moved from the wall. "Harder!" The shivering blond thing beneath him came with his fists clenched in the sheets, seconds before Taichi lost it himself, having looked down and _saw it_. Himself. Yamato. He didn't pull out until he was sure the last of his come had spilled inside Yama. It seemed to matter a lot in the moment.

Taichi toppled onto the bed, laying with ragged breaths as he stared unseeing at the ceiling fan. After a long time the tangle of blond hair and long limbs beside him moved, rolling onto his side to curl against Taichi. He wrapped a possessive arm around Yamato's waist, squeezing him closer. Then he planted a kiss on the crown of his head, inhaling the scent of his hair in a room reeking of sex.

"You okay?" He asked, even though it was obvious from the fact that Yama was nearly purring against his chest that he was absolutely okay. And Taichi was okay, too. More than okay. Not far from purring himself, to be honest.

"Yeah," Yamato's smooth voice answered in a whisper.

"What a relief," Taichi grinned, "For a second I thought the only word you knew how to say was _harder_."

This earned him a hard jab in the ribs, "Like you could hear me over your own grunting. You sounded like a buffalo."

Taichi frowned. He couldn't remember making any sounds. Certainly no buffalo sounds. He rolled away to face the wall, trying to recall a single instance of this alleged _grunting_ , but Yamato must have mistaken his jutting bottom lip for a pathetic pout, which it was _not_. "Aw, come on, Taichi," he said, and took the offending lip between his teeth, tugging him back. He brushed the hair from Taichi's eyes with gentle fingers, "You were amazing."

Taichi preened. He _was_ amazing. He knew he had been, but it was still nice to hear. Then Yamato went and spoiled his moment, grinning at him in his teasing way, "You could've just asked me out, you know. You didn't have to pretend to rescue me."

"Pretend? I wasn't—" Taichi started, then quickly backpedaled as Yamato's eyebrows shot up. So yes, okay, it was possible he'd overreacted, but if Yamato found out he'd never live it down, "Right. Ha, ha. Pretend. Well. At least I got out of buying you dinner. Yep, you're a cheap date, Yama." He covered his panic with a sharp smack to Yamato's ass, but the blond didn't fall for it.

Yamato rose up onto an elbow to smirk down at him, running his fingers idly through the dark line of hair leading from his belly button. "Either way," Yamato shrugged graciously, "Thanks, Taichi. I feel ready to take on the millions of guys that want me now." He fell back into the pillows with a luxurious stretch, resting his hands behind his head, "I bet the line's around the block. How about I lay right here, and you can let them in two at a time."

"Yeah, right," Taichi rolled over to pin Yamato beneath him, kissing his neck in the places that made him go _Taichi Taichi_ as he growled, "We're nowhere near done. Haven't even talked about the noises you make. Totally indecent. Waving your dildo around like a sex freak. And your hair smells too good."

"But Taichi," Yamato whined, moving his slender body sinuously under Taichi's weight, "It could take years to fix me."

"Yeah," Taichi said, "Duh. Seriously, Yama, sometimes you're so clueless."

 


End file.
